BEACH WISH

©2008 by Richard S. Crawford

It wasn’t a fancy Arabian bottle or oil lamp, it was an old Coors can. And the genie didn’t look like Barbara Eden from I Dream of Jeannie; she looked like Ruth Gordon from Harold and Maude.

Not that there’s anything wrong with Ruth Gordon, Julius thought, but wouldn’t it just be my luck.

The genie mostly hovered over the sand. That is, she was solid and substantial from the top of her head down to about her knees; below her knees, her limbs tapered quickly into a few thin wisps of smoke that emanated from the opening of the beer can. She had her left arm crossed in front of her chest, while a lit cigarette dangled from her right hand. The snarl on her face was epic. “Well?” she said.

Julius rubbed his face. “What do you mean, only one?”

“You only get one wish, doofus. What’s so hard to understand about that?”

“But in all the stories, people get three. ”

The genie took a deep drag on her cigarette, then sighed. “This isn’t a story. You get one wish. Use it or lose it.”

“It’s not fair.”

The genie said nothing.

“You know, I took you out of that can. I could put you back in. And then where would you be, eh?”

“In a can.”

“Right, and you wouldn’t like that one bit, would you?”

“Whatever.” The genie shrugged. “I was in there for twenty years, and in a Coke bottle for forty years before that. I’m not proud.”

“Fine.” Julius kicked the sand at his feet. “What should I wish for?”

“I don’t care. Anything you want. It’s your wish.”

“Yeah, but you’re going to twist my wish and make it bad by reading it too literally and being all ironic, right?”

“I don’t work that way. Too much trouble. I mean, really, takes way too much time. So are you going to make a wish or what?”

“I don’t know.” Julius squeezed his eyes shut and massaged his temples. He couldn’t think of a single thing to wish for. It should have been easy. His life was so rotten in so many ways, he shouldn’t have had any problem at all coming up with at least one thing, anything, that could be fixed. But every time he tried, a million other things came up. He could wish for a better car, but more than likely he’d have to pay more money in registration and insurance for a better car and he couldn’t afford it, not with his job. Wish for a better job? Maybe, but he was barely qualified for the job he had now. If he wished himself into a better job, he’d be fired in a week.

Besides, if he wished for a better job he would probably have to have a better car to get to it.

“I don’t suppose I could wish for more wishes?”

“You could try.”

“Would it work?”

“No.”

“How about conjunctive wishes?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, like, ‘I wish for a better car and the income to support it?”

“Nice try.”

“Dammit.”

Julius sat down on the sand. With a sigh, the genie did as well. She took another drag on her cigarette, finishing it off. With a flourish of her hand, she tossed it, and another appeared in her hand, freshly lit, to take its place.

A girlfriend, maybe? I could wish for one of those, Julius thought. For a moment the idea of a beautiful, smart, funny, talented girlfriend made him smile, and he nearly opened his mouth to make the wish, but then thought better of it. No woman would put up with him for long. He knew he was a whining, depressive, brooding loser. Any girl smart enough to be attractive to him would be too smart to stick with him for very long.

“Have you made up your mind yet?” the genie asked him. “You’ve been at this force hours now.”

“No, I haven’t. It’s really hard, you know. What would you wish for?”

“Hm. Well, you know those pillows shaped like a doughnut, that they make for people with hemorrhoids?”

“Yeah.”

“I’d wish for one of those.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Not at all. It gets really uncomfortable inside that can.”

Julius furrowed his brow. “Wouldn’t you just wish to get rid of your hemorrhoids?”

“I didn’t say I had hemorrhoids. Just that those pillows are really comfortable.”

“Oh. I can see the sense in that.” It was a lie. Julius saw no sense in the genie’s description at all.

“What about lots of money?” the genie suggested.

Julius shook his head. “I’d just blow it all and I wouldn’t have anything to show for it.”

“How about perfect health? That’s a pretty popular one.”

“Not with my lifestyle. I’d screw it all up in months anyway.”

“Well, maybe you could just make better choices, you know.”

Julius scoffed. “Yeah. If I knew how to make better choices I’d be in a better place in my life, you know? I’d have a better job, with more money, in better health, and all that.”

The genie closed her eyes and sighed. “Well, make a choice soon, all right? I’m getting tired of standing here and I’m sure you have things to do.”

Julius shrugged. “Nah. Just a bunch more shit to fuck up.” That was the story of his life. All he ever did was fuck shit up. If he could change, if it were even possible, he would have done so years ago. For a moment he considered wishing that it were possible for him to change, but there were probably some things in the universe that were completely immutable. Besides he imagined the genie would probably say something like, “Why are you wishing for things you already have?”, a variant of all the “Change is always possible!” messages he’d been given all his life. Lies, all of them.

He considered several dozen options, more things he could wish for, but rejected each possibility as he realized how he would just screw it up.

The genie went through several dozen cigarettes.

“Look,” the genie said at length, “you’ve been at this all day. Now, you have to make a wish before the sun sets, or you’re going to lose it.”

“Are those the rules?”

“Those are the rules I’m setting. I’m really tired of sitting here, waiting for you to make up your mind.”

“Okay, fine!” Julius shouted. He made his wish at last, then stood up and walked back home.

#

Astounding, the genie thought. The most amazing thing about human beings was how they never ceased to be amazing. Even the most self absorbed, selfish, and thoughtless of them could manage to come through with an altruistic act from time to time. Still, it took real talent to perform an act like that as an expression of self hatred and self loathing. Julius was apparently just one of the individuals who had that kind of talent.

She picked up her hemorrhoid pillow and rematerialized inside her beer can.